


Winds of Change

by Keesha



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keesha/pseuds/Keesha
Summary: Fete des Mousquetaires - December's challenge is to use the following sentence in a story: 'You will take the fall for this.' In this tale the Cardinal request a private meeting with Athos.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is slightly off the timeline established by the series.

“You will take the fall for this,” Cardinal Richelieu hissed as he lay on the bed in his private chambers, left hand clutching the gown over his chest. “You may not have conducted the sin, but you hid it. Fostered its deception. Betrayed your King and your Country.”

Closing his eyes, the Cardinal took a few shallow, gasping breaths before forcing his eyes to open once more. He was very tired, weak and swore he could feel his soul slipping from his damaged heart.

“This inconvenience of dying may have stopped me from being your judge and executioner. But mark my words well, musketeer. The wheels of your downfall are already in motion. Though I may be gone from this Earth soon, God will insure you and your co-conspirators are dealt the fate deserved for your abominable actions.”

With that, the King’s right-hand man’s eyes drifted shut once more, though he continued to speak softly. “Leave me now. I must spend my final hours on this planet preparing my soul to meet its maker.” Ever witty, even in the throes of death, he cynically added, “I fear I have many deeds to ask leniency for and little time left to do it. I do hope God is as forgiving as the Bible says.” A small smile crinkled the sides of his blue lips. “And it wouldn’t hurt if He has a sense of humor too.”

Athos stared down at the prone man for a moment, internally debating how to respond and whether to offer words of comfort to the dying man. In the end, his sense of duty and even a small amount of respect for the Cardinal won out.

“Your Eminence, in your own way, the actions you took in your life, were motivated by your love of France. Though a few were more, shall we say, personally motivated.” Athos’ tone was as dry as the desert, even if there was a tiny twinkle in his eye.

“At times, for our mutual love of France, we were allies, though uneasy ones at best,” Athos continued. “The act of sin of which you speak was consummated by the time I learned of it. I was too…late... to change the outcome. I won’t deny the deception I have propagated is morally wrong. Yet, I believe my actions were and are in the best interest of France.”

“You will be damned for your actions,” the Cardinal stoutly declared. “Intentions are the pathway to hell.”

Athos snorted lightly. “I have long been damned and destined for hell. This is just one more sin on a list that is very long.”

Rallying his strength, the Cardinal opened his eyes to look at the musketeer. “Your confession. Of aiding and abetting a traitor. On my death bed. How droll. What happens should I not die?” he questioned the guilty swordsman.

Athos’ green eyes gazed sadly at the Cardinal though he remained quiet. There was no need to speak of what was the inevitable.

Acknowledging the unspoken comment, Cardinal Richelieu gave a curt nod. “Though God can perform miracles, I very much doubt I am high enough on His list for such preferential treatment. At this point I am more afraid I will be waiting within the gates of hell to greet you upon your arrival,” the religious man said despondently as his eyes drifted heavenward. “I appreciate your confession upon my deathbed. However, I can’t help wishing you’d chosen to clear your conscience a bit sooner so I could have had the pleasure of watching your demise,” the priest said with a heavy sigh.

The Cardinal’s bleary blue eyes sought Athos once more. “The Comte de la Fére as a musketeer. When I realized who you really were, I confess I was intrigued. I couldn’t help wondering what could have happened that would make the first-born son of one of the most prominent noble families in France become a musketeer. To be frank, I still don’t understand, though I have met your wife. She is a piece of work, I grant you. Still, to turn your back on your title, your wealth, the life-style most people can only dream of having...” he sighed and shook his head once more. “I don’t suppose you’d enlighten a dying man as to why?”

The room grew quiet except for the unsteady, wheezing breaths of the Cardinal.

When Athos finally spoke, it was haltingly and haunted. “Think of it as my penance. I didn’t set out to be a musketeer. I set out to shorten my days on this Earth and hasten my departure to hell. But, as one more cruel joke on the path that has been my life, I found myself, instead, and rather unwittingly, a musketeer. I, reluctantly, became a man reborn with a purpose. A man who was given a reason to live. My time with the musketeers has been more fulfilling than anything I ever did as a Comte. I have helped more people as Athos, the musketeer, than I ever did as Comte de la Fére. And along the way, I found a new...family.”

The Cardinal shifted his eyes to look out the window at the setting sun, no doubt the last one he’d ever see. “I do understand what it is to want to escape one’s background. For me, my escape was the church, where I have done very well. Whereas you ran from power, I ran towards it. Only God knows if either of us was right.”

The Cardinal’s eyelids drooped before drifting fully shut. “Athos, the musketeer. I am sure you wondered why I wanted to meet in private. I have one last mission for you. You profess your actions have been for the good of France. In death, I hold you to that statement. Swear to me Athos, Comte de la Fére, on whatever you hold sacred, that you will continue to defend your King and Country. Swear you will do whatever it takes, whether personal sacrifice of yourself, or the ones you love, to keep France safe.”

Athos solemnly bowed his head and took a moment before answering. “I pledge that the safety and security of France, her King and the royal family is, and always will be my vocation,” he intoned as he raised his head to look at the Cardinal, “as it has been yours.”

The Cardinal slowly opened his eyes and studied the man before him, finding nothing but sincerity. “Thank you, Athos. I hold you to your word. Now take your leave for I must concentrate on my absolution.”

Athos gave the Cardinal a nod of respect. “You did well, for France,” he said softly and sincerely before turning and taking his leave.

Athos left the room, so he didn’t hear the final words of the Cardinal. “Perhaps I regret the actions that I have put in place to bring about the downfall of the musketeers. However, if anyone can escape destiny, it will be you and the musketeers you call brothers. You will need all your strengths to outwit Rochefort. If you can do that, you will have won and will deserve to survive.”


	2. Chapter 2

Silently closing the door behind him, Athos brusquely nodded to the gaggle of nearby priests and bureaucrats hovering in the hallway. Already, the winds of change were blowing and people were jockeying for position and power. A few, perhaps, were actually here simply to mourn.

Turning to the chancellor, Athos said, “You’d best let his Majesty know the Cardinal’s time draws near.”

With that, Athos made his way back downstairs to where Captain Treville waited for him. Treville turned to face his Lieutenant as he entered the room. “How is the Cardinal?”

“Working on his arrangements with God to avoid being ‘misjudged’. He seems to think his soul may not be upwardly bound,” Athos replied drily. 

Treville chortled. “A bit of a tough call on that one.”

Athos took a quick look about the room as he moved to stand close to his Captain before continuing to speak. This was a conversation that shouldn’t be overheard by the ears that lurked everywhere in the Palace. “He says he knows. About it. And has put ‘plans’ in place.”

Treville’s eyes widened at the news. “That explains the private audience. And do you believe him?”

“What use is lying to a dying man trying to gain entrance to heaven?” Athos looked at Treville. “I am confident, he knows.”

“Damn,” the Captain swore as he turned away to gaze out the window. Treville sighed heavily. “I wonder what his plan is and with whom he shared it?”

Athos gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s yet another secret the Cardinal will take to his grave which, judging by his condition, will be before the cock crows in the morn.”

“That soon,” Treville stated a bit sadly. “Cardinal Richelieu. Gone. Most of the time he and I stood on opposing sides. Though, a few times we stood in the same corner. He was one of the few people who knew what it took to keep our King happy, though unfortunately it was always at the expense of others.” 

“It has been my experience that the musketeers most often took the fall for the Cardinal’s ambitions.” Athos glanced back at the staircase that lead upwards to were the Cardinal lay dying. “Still, there is something to be said for knowing your enemy. Now,” he continued as he looked back at his Captain, “our enemy has become unknown.” 

Treville gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I wonder who he told about...” Abruptly, he snapped his mouth closed. “This is not the place to speak of things for these walls have many ears. Let’s head back to the Garrison. There is nothing more for us to do here.”

Moving swiftly, the two musketeers made their way out of the palace to the stable where their mounts awaited them. They rode through the streets of Paris in contemplative silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Once back inside the fortifications of the Garrison, they handed their steeds off the stable lads before making their way to Treville’s office.

When they were behind closed doors, Athos glanced at the Captain’s liquor cabinet then cocked an eyebrow at his leader. 

“Yes. And be generous when you pour,” Treville declared as he removed his cloak and hat before dropping into one of the two chairs flanking a small table by the fireplace.

Athos’ filled the glasses, carried them over to the table, handed one to Treville and then dropped into the chair across from him. 

Treville took a healthy-sized sip before he spoke. “So, the Cardinal indicated he knew about Aramis and the Queen’s indiscretion. Did he speculate on the parentage of the soon-to-be-born heir?”

“As was often the case when the Cardinal spoke, he was not forthcoming with what he actually knew. I can say with confidence he knows Aramis and the Queen were...indiscreet. However, if he has any suspicions that the child in the Queen’s womb may not have been sired by the King…” Athos paused and took a large gulp from his glass before continuing. “Honestly, none of us, except maybe the Queen, can be sure of the babe’s parentage. And the Queen, depending on what she did after returning from the Abbey, may not even be sure of the child’s position, whether bastard or heir.”

“And even if the child is a girl, the mere act is still treasonous. What was Aramis thinking?” Treville moaned softly. “Could he not have resisted?”

Athos leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the high back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as he reminisced. “Aramis is Aramis. But in his defense, I believe the Queen is equally to blame. On the journey to the Abbey...even before...she often did not dissuade Aramis’...attentions...as strongly as was necessary.”

“So, you are suggesting the attraction was mutual? That she is as much to blame as Aramis?” Treville bluntly asked.

“Assigning blame in a case like this is hard at best, if not impossible. The ways of women are and always will be...unfathomable. Women can be...deceitful. Men can be gullible. The outcome of that marriage can only be heartache and sorrow.”

Treville had the distinct feeling Athos was no longer speaking of Aramis and the Queen, but he remained silent.

Draining his glass, Athos set it down on the table with a bit too much force, causing the three-footed object to rock. “Blame? Blame the King who should have been more attentive to his Queen. Blame the Cardinal who didn’t care to have such a powerful Queen who was often able to sway her husband’s mind. The Queen, more than once, was an inconvenience to the Cardinal’s schemes.” 

Athos took a deep breath. “I could even blame you, Captain. You hired Aramis. You were well aware of his...nature...when it came to the opposite sex. You put him on guard duty at the Palace, giving them the...opportunity...to interact. And me? Blame me. I should have seen to it Aramis was dealt with like an unruly stallion. My skills with a dagger are considerable and I have watched the procedure.”

Treville couldn’t help laughing at Athos’ drily delivered soliloquy. 

Rising from his chair, Athos looked at his Captain. “I don’t know who knows what or what will happen next. We just have to deal with this, as we always have, one day at a time. And let’s hope some day we don’t find ourselves at the end of a very tight rope with no ground under our feet.”

“Truer words have never been spoken. I’ll drink to that,” Treville declared as he raised his glass to drain it.

“If you require nothing else of me, I shall retire to my bed. I fear the days ahead will be long and arduous.”

“Go, Athos. I believe we will need all our strengths to get through this crisis,” Treville said as he, too, rose from his chair.

With a slight head tilt of acknowledgment, Athos left the Captain’s office, went down the stairs and stood in the courtyard below. Night had descended and the Garrison was going about its operations. The horses were being fed in the stable and the musketeers in the mess hall.

Athos debated about going to both places, but decided against it. Roger was being well-taken care of by the stable hands. Of that, he had no doubts because most of the stable lads were terrified of both him and his mount. No one wanted to risk the ire of offending either of them, so Roger always had excellent care. 

His eyes drifted towards the mess hall, which at this time of night would be busy. Crowded and noisy, with neither of which he felt like dealing. He surely had something in his room to eat if he grew hungry, if only an apple meant for Roger. Besides, this would hardly be the first, nor he suspected, the last time he might go hungry for a night. Neither the world nor he would end. 

Lastly, his eyes rested upon the barracks, where the rest of his brothers were housed. As much as he loved Porthos, d’Artagnan and the wayward Aramis, he was not in the mood for their company tonight either. He wanted the solitude of his own, empty quarters and maybe the bottle of wine he knew was in his chest. 

Mind made up, he silently and swiftly moved across the open courtyard and up the stairs to his quarters. Slipping unseen inside, he firmly closed the door behind him and set the latch in place, though experience had taught him the lock was no match for his determined and persistence brothers. 

Placing his hat on the table and sword-belt on the chair, he removed his coat, adding it to the pile before moving over to sit on the edge of his bed to take off his boots. With a grunt, he yanked them off, dropping them to the floor. His eyes roved to the chest wherein lay an unopened bottle of wine. With some effort, he made himself pass on getting up to retrieve it and instead, lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He was tired and he feared he was right that the winds of change were coming and blowing up a storm.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning found Athos with his friends at their usual table in the mess hall. Porthos’ and d’Artagnan’s plates were heaped high with food and the two were plowing through it as if there was no tomorrow. And who knows, maybe they were right and this was their last meal.

Aramis had a more restrained meal in front of him, some of which he transferred onto Athos’ plate. Aramis felt his brother wasn’t eating enough so he took it upon himself to rectify the situation. It used to annoy Athos when Aramis added more food to his plate, however, he never found a way that succeeded in stopping him. Aramis mothered them all. 

Suddenly, the sounds of multiple church bells ringing cut through the air. A few moments later, Captain Treville came through the door and caught Athos’ eye. A silent message passed between them.

“What does it mean?” d’Artagnan asked, as he placed his spoon on the table.

“Birth. Death. Attack,” Porthos replied succinctly between mouthfuls of food. Whichever it was, he knew his next meal could be far off so he continued to chow down.

“Birth?” Aramis said dazedly as began to rise from his chair. “It’s too early. I must...”

Athos stood quickly and slammed Aramis back into his chair. “You need to do nothing,” he hissed in his ear. “You need to sit here, quietly, and finish your meal.”

At that moment, a messenger from the Palace burst through the doorway, eyes scanning for Captain Treville who had moved toward the middle of the hall. Finding his quarry, the messenger hurried across the room to hand the Captain two sealed missives. With a curt nod, the boy departed. He had been told not to wait for a reply.

A hush fell over the room as the Captain used his thumb to break the wax seal on the first one. Unfolding the parchment, he quickly scanned it, then read it through once more before raising his head to look at his men.

“The Cardinal is dead,” he said without preamble.

“Huh,” Porthos grunted as he went to take another mouthful of food.

“Show some respect,” Aramis admonished him.

Setting his spoon on the table, Porthos replied, “He’s not on the top of my favorite peoples list.”

“I don’t think he’s on the top of anyone’s favorite persons list,” d’Artagnan declared.

“The King was very fond of the Cardinal. I fear his Majesty will be inconsolable,” Aramis wisely predicted. “And an unhappy King never means well for his subjects.”

“Perhaps the Queen’s impending birth will distract him from his grief,” d’Artagnan unwittingly suggested. No sooner had the last word left his mouth, when he realized that was not a good thing to say. The fact that his words were ill-advised was re-enforced by the hard glares his friends were directing upon him. “Or not,” he awkwardly added. 

By now, the Captain had opened and digested the second note. “Athos, Aramis, Porthos, d’Artagnan ready your gear. You have been ordered by the Cardinal to meet a man in the village inn at noon.”

Puzzled, Porthos said, “You said the Cardinal was dead.”

Athos rose and locked eyes with Treville who said, “Well, apparently he wrote this before he passed. It is written in his script and bears his seal. Go. Get ready. There isn’t much time if you are to be there at noon. The rest of you, muster in 20.” With that, the Captain broke eye contact and swiftly left the mess hall.

Porthos and d’Artagnan who were still seated, grabbed their spoons and began quickly eating. “Need fuel to ride on a mission to meet a mystery man for a dead Cardinal,” Porthos explained to no one in particular.

“I’ll meet you in the stables,” Athos said as he grabbed his hat and headed out the door. He wanted to catch up with Treville and see if there was anything else in those missives. Words that couldn’t be spoken in front of the entire regiment.

Aramis, who also was still seated, was lost in silent musings, which was a good thing. For had his thoughts, which were of the Queen, the unborn child and himself, seen the light of day, the only trip he would be making would be to the gallows.

Athos caught up with his Captain on the stairs to his office. “Don’t bother asking, Athos. There is nothing else written.”

Standing next to Treville on the mid-way platform, Athos glanced at the two missives then sighed. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or not.”

“Nor do I,” Treville agreed. “Whoever this man is you are to meet, at the Cardinal’s bequest, be careful. I fear the timing of this cannot be a good omen. Treat this mission as if your life, the lives of all the musketeers, depends on its success. For it may well be that exact case.”

THE END


End file.
